


Gus and John’s Excellent Adventure or The Great SHIELD/Aerial Corps Exchange Program of 2011 and 1817

by T-Rex (tmishkin)



Series: The Adventures of Gus & John [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Time Travel, gay-friendly vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:01:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23532007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmishkin/pseuds/T-Rex
Summary: Phil Coulson and Clint Barton participate in a time-traveling exchange program with John Granby and Augustine Little.Fasten your carabiners, zip your tac suit, and suspend your disbelief!
Relationships: Clint Barton/Phil Coulson, John Granby/Augustine Little
Series: The Adventures of Gus & John [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2157219
Comments: 11
Kudos: 14





	Gus and John’s Excellent Adventure or The Great SHIELD/Aerial Corps Exchange Program of 2011 and 1817

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CMOTScribbler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CMOTScribbler/gifts).



>>ArrowVerse>>

“Barton, do you or do you not want to ride on a dragon?”

Clint very much did want to fly on the back of a living mythological beast, but ever since he and Phil Coulson had gotten married earlier that year, there was a tiny part of his brain that actually urged caution. He checked in with it. Yup, still tiny.

“Yes sir, sign us up!” he said, winking at his husband.

>>>>>

Thanks to a discovery by Dr. Strange, a portal had stabilized between New York City and the London of an alternate universe that some wit at SHIELD had dubbed the DragonVerse—where it was currently 1817 and the British had finally caught their breath after the defeat of Napoleon, because apparently the existence of dragons hadn’t changed everything. God knew what these Brits thought of the technology and ethics of the early 21st century. From what Phil had heard, they were bemused that their futuristic exchange program partners were from an organization named after a defensive weapon that hadn’t been used in the DragonVerse for a few hundred years. They were gonna love Hawkeye and his bow…

%%DragonVerse%%

Admiral Roland sighed. Wellington was absolutely obsessed with the exchange program, but the details fell to her. The bureaucrats on both sides had agreed that the exchange would begin with a forty-eight hour visit of two members of His Majesty’s Aerial Corps—the branch of the armed forces noted for the unflappability and unconventionality of its officers—to this futuristic (and oddly wingless) version of their former colonies. Roland had just finished meeting with Captains Granby and Little, who were at the top of her list of candidates due to their intelligence, flexibility, recklessness, and, well, more than academic interest in a world where two men could get married—rather than, say, hanged for their affections. 

Roland could not imagine a world without dragons, much less a world with several billion inhabitants and weapons that could incinerate entire cities of them. Well, her captains wouldn’t be getting involved with that sort of thing: they would focus on social issues. She and Wellesley agreed that the potential for change in the coming decades was enormous. In her lifetime, they might well see the abolition of the slave trade and voting rights extended to women and to men outside the land-owning classes. Much change had already occurred, thanks in part to Napoleon’s reforms—and the necessity of defeating him. Roland was part of the first group of female dragon captains to serve openly and the first ever promoted to the rank of Admiral. Now she was poised to make history again by sending two of her officers to another world so very like and unlike their own.

%%%%

In the woods by the London covert, Gus Little watched his lover prepare to step through a doorway to another world. John didn’t look quite as confident as he had claimed to be the night before. “Not getting cold feet at the last minute, are you, John?” 

John Granby reddened. “No, if Iskierka isn’t panicking, I’m not going to worry about it.”

“If she weren’t taking it in stride, we wouldn’t be going,” said Gus, thinking of the havoc that an overwrought eighteen-ton fire-breather could cause. “You’re lucky that she’s obsessed with getting another egg from Temeraire. And I’m lucky that good old Immortalis thinks he’s seen it all. Judging by recent events, he really hasn’t.”

“Indeed, a doorway to the future, who knew? Well, a future, anyway. Come on, let’s go. Can’t keep the 21st century waiting!” John felt like he was babbling to keep fear at bay as he took Gus by the hand and stepped resolutely through the portal.

>>ArrowVerse>>

It wasn’t much different from walking down a hallway and entering another room, though Gus and John kept their hands clasped until they stepped into a room with oddly bright lighting and cool air. They stood shoulder to shoulder, overwhelmed. There wasn’t much in the room, but all of it was unfamiliar.

“Wow,” said someone in a hushed tone. “He’s got a hook hand!”

A dark-haired man stepped toward them, his hand extended. He seemed to be formally dressed and had a military bearing. Gus, as the senior dragon captain, shook his hand.

“I’m Senior Agent Phil Coulson of SHIELD,” said the man. “This is my partner, Agent Clint Barton.”

“Captain Augustine Little of His Majesty’s Aerial Corps,” Gus said. “This is my fellow officer Captain John Granby.”

They all shook hands. Barton had a huge smile on his face. “Welcome to the 21st century, dragon captains! Sorry for the hand comment. It just looks really cool,” he said. 

John, always friendly and informal, grinned back at him. “Not a problem. I hear you’ve mastered the air in other ways, Agent Barton.” 

“Call me Clint,” he said. “Yes, we have! I fly a Quinjet, that’s, uh, a machine with wings that goes, uh, really fast.”

“John’s dragon breathes fire,” smirked Gus, feeling a bit more at ease. “She’s purple, red, and green with black spots.” 

“Purple!” said Clint. “I wanna ride that one!”

“They don’t all breathe fire?” Phil asked, apparently the more practical of the two.

“No, most don’t,” said John, laughing. “Some spit acid and some can wreck ships with the force of their roar, but most just fly faster than a horse can run—with enormous teeth and claws. Oh, and they weigh five to thirty tons and are very smart. We aviators are raised around them from an early age, so we’re not afraid, but most civilians are terrified of them, understandably so.”

“Indeed,” said Phil, “Would you like to see New York?” We’re actually quite high up here, so you’ll get a bird’s eye view.” He strode over to the blinds and opened them. “Though I suppose you’re used to a dragon’s-eye view.”

John gasped. “This city is enormous!” Buildings of all sizes and shapes, as far as the eye could see. Almost no trees or grass. And the sky had an unfamiliar brownish tint. 

“We’re so high up,” said Gus. “And some of the other buildings are even taller than this one! Why isn’t your sky blue?”

Phil sighed. Air pollution would be among the first things that their visitors noticed. “It’s dirty,” he said. “Some days are worse than others. You probably don’t have many machines or factories, but this pollution is one of the problems with industrial progress.”

Their guests looked worried. “No, not many, but more factories are being built. Could this happen in our world?” John wondered. “In London … or Newcastle? Two of my brothers have gone into the coal business with our uncle. It’s very dirty, but my family is finally starting to prosper. Gus, we should be sure Wellington and Perscitia know of the potential problems.”

“We will tell them,” Gus assured him, putting a hand on his shoulder in comfort. He needed a distraction—this was supposed to be fun and relaxing for John. “So, ah, I understand that your society has become accepting of two men being, um, together?”

“Yup,” said Clint. “Or two women. You gentlemen all right with that?”

“Oh, absolutely,” said John. He looked at Gus and blushed. “That’s why we volunteered. We’ve been together for ten years and we’re rather tired of hiding how we feel. Not to mention the time my dragon tried to marry me off to the Empress of the Incas.”

“I can see where that would be a problem,” said Phil. He paused. “Did you say your world has an Incan Empire in the 19th century? Did the Spanish try to conquer them a while back?”

Gus smiled. “Well, they tried. The Incan dragons are very protective of their people. John only got off the hook (so to speak) when the Empress married Napoleon. Their son is the Emperor of France now, since Napoleon is in exile.”

“That’s so cool,” said Clint. “Your world is a lot like ours, but some stuff is really different. And speaking of cool things, the state of New York just made it legal this year for us to get married, so we did!” He pulled a gold chain with a ring on it out of his shirt. “We just don’t wear them at work. Don’t want to give the bad guys anything they could use against us.”

Gus looked a little confused. John whispered, “I think ‘cool’ means ‘excellent.’”

“Hey, Phil, can we give them a ride in the Quinjet?” Clint asked.

And that’s how John and Gus came to fly much higher and faster than on a dragon and, briefly, upside down.

>>>>>

On the second day, Phil and Clint took their guests to Central Park. Gus and John were impressed with the large green space surrounded by tall buildings.

“I wager Hyde Park looks like this now,” said John. 

Phil fiddled with his phone and brought up a picture. “Quite similar, I’d say.”

Gus laughed. “Your cellular phones are outrageous. It would take me a year to get used to them alone!”

“I don’t suppose you have duels or executions in Central Park, though,” said John.

“What?!” said Clint. “Noooo, more like concerts and plays. And rowboats.”

“Oh, well, we had a play of sorts in Hyde Park recently,” said John. “After Napoleon was defeated, we invited our allies to London for a recreation of the Battle of Trafalgar on the Serpentine. Sank the whole damn French fleet while the band played “God Save the King.”

“Classy!” said Clint. “Oh, hey, would you like to row, row, row a boat?”

That was a firm Yes, once Clint’s relentlessly colloquial speech was translated, as was a picnic lunch in Strawberry Fields. 

Phil felt like he was having time travel whiplash as he ate sandwiches (British, circa 1760) in a section of the park named in honor of an Englishman born in 1940, while people rode horses around the park and helicopters flew overhead. “All we need now is a Renaissance Fair,” he muttered to Clint, “and I won’t know what year it is anymore.”

>>>>>

Gus and John loved sleeping in a large, clean, and ridiculously comfortable bed, but they didn’t get much rest. They were farther from home than they had ever been, even in China, but they had never felt safer being together. They made love slowly, with as much kissing and cuddling as they could manage. 

Afterwards, John told Gus, “You know I really like it here, but the strangest thing is what they call people like us. ‘Gay’ is such an odd word to use, and ‘homosexual’ is even stranger.”

Gus raised an eyebrow at him. “What, do you like ‘invert’”?

“Oh, God, no,” said John. “I think I like ‘queer’ the best. The words here may sound odd to us, but at least the people of this world can name themselves—and do so publicly.” 

Gus nuzzled his throat. “I know. The worst part of us serving in different places during the war wasn’t missing you—it was not being able to say that to anyone—besides Chenery, anyway.”

“I suppose here they would say he was raised by his gay uncle. Explains why he’s such a cheerful fellow, if nothing else.” John laughed, stroking his lover’s side. Gus shivered. “Up for another round, darling?”

“But of course. Say, let’s try that stuff in the bottle they gave us, what’s it called?”

“Lube.”

%%DragonVerse%%

Two weeks later, Phil and Clint came to visit Gus and John—and their dragon companions. Emerging in the woods by the London covert, they looked around cautiously. “Five to thirty tons,” mused Phil. “That means the smaller ones weigh as much as an elephant. See anything terrifying?” 

Clint snorted. “Just your sense of humor, boss.” He spotted John and Gus up ahead and called out a greeting.

“Welcome, gentlemen!” said John. “Are you ready to meet some dragons? We can start small if you like, though if you’re used to huge flying machines, this may not be a problem.”

“I’d like to meet your partly purple dragon, John,” said Clint. “She’s medium-sized, right?”

Clint had forgotten that John’s dragon breathed fire and vented steam from spikes all along her body. The purple parts were thick scales like armored plates on her belly. But the SHIELD agents had seen a lot of odd things in the line of work, and after a few minutes, they were chatting with Iskierka, a British dragon of Turkish origin whose name was Polish and meant something like Sparky. She was wearing several pieces of dragon-sized jewelry, most notably a turquoise and silver nose ring.

“Do you capture prizes in your world? Iskierka asked. “With my flame, I am excellent at taking ships. Your clothes are very fine: you must have rich prizes over there.” At Phil and Clint’s puzzled look, she clarified, “During the war, I captured dozens, mostly French warships, of course. Granby wouldn’t let me take any fishing boats.” She huffed, as if her captain was unreasonable.

“Wooden ships with cloth sails?” Clint laughed. “If I captained one of those, I’d surrender in a minute when I saw you coming.” 

“Our work is mostly defensive,” said Phil, answering Iskierka’s question. “We protect our world from a variety of threats. Most of them are strange and highly dangerous. Not all of them originate on our world, either.”

“Ah,” said Iskierka, “That explains why you are called SHIELD, because you protect. We don’t use shields here anymore, of course, but it is still a good image.”

After Iskierka, they met Gus’s dragon, a yellow beast somewhat smaller than Iskierka who bore the weighty name Immortalis. “I call him Mort sometimes,” said Gus. “For your first ride dragon-back, I think he’s a better choice than Iskierka. It’s hard to stay out of her steam if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Hard to stay out of her fire even if you do know what you’re doing,” said Immortalis, making an odd rumble.

“What’s that sound mean?” asked Phil. He tried to remain calm, but it was quite a rumble.

“Oh, he’s just laughing,” said Gus. “About Iskierka, and now at you.”

%%%%

Riding a dragon was like venturing onto one of those edgy amusement park rides that made you feel as though the restraints were completely inadequate, Phil thought. Clint, who had never met a rollercoaster he didn’t love, looked thrilled. Phil’s rational mind told him that Immortalis’s reinforced leather harness and the metal carabiners attaching riders to harness were perfectly safe. The rest of his mind wasn’t so sure, especially when Gus showed them how the crew moved around the dragon while he was in flight, unlatching and latching the carabiners with the ease of long practice, lengthening the straps to demonstrate how they stood to fight hand to hand several hundred feet in the air.

“With swords, mostly,” John explained. “The larger dragons have a complement of riflemen aboard and we officers carry pistols, but reloading is tricky, so we mostly use swords after the first volley.”

“Reloading after every shot?” Clint asked. He had a hard time imagining that.

John nodded. “Under good conditions, our riflemen can reload fast enough to fire three shots in a minute, and the accuracy is much better than with muskets. Boarding parties are the worst part of aerial combat, though. We try to jump from our dragon to an enemy beast.”

“And if you miss…?” said Phil.

“It’s a long way down,” said John. “A couple of Frenchman shoved me off, when I was a lieutenant. Thought I was dead for sure.”

“What happened?”

“The dragon, Temeraire, caught me right before I hit a tree.”

“He’s always getting hurt, or nearly killed like that,” sighed Gus.

Phil looked at him sympathetically. “Clint has been known to jump off buildings.”

%%%%

Clint and Phil had trouble sleeping that night. They had known that they wouldn’t be sharing a room, but they hadn’t bargained on the summer heat in an era well before air conditioning, nor the odors that accompanied it. Clint opened the window, but what little breeze there was brought in a smell like sewage. Phil chose the heat and slept on top of his blanket.

The next day, Clint showed off his bow. He had brought a classic recurve made of hickory and a selection of arrows, some handmade, some standard-issue, and a couple of surprises. Although the World Security Council had been less strict than, say, Star Trek, with its Prime Directive forbidding the disclosure of more advanced technology, Phil and Clint still thought that less was more. Well, it would be more accurate to say that Phil preferred the cautious path and Clint knew how to be creative within limitations.

“Impressive,” said Gus, lowering his spyglass. Clint had quickly and almost casually peppered a target with arrows at two hundred yards. John, the more demonstrative of the two, had his mouth open in disbelief. “That’s not random,” he said. “You made a picture with arrows?”

Above a half circle of black-feathered arrows, John and Gus could see two clusters of shots, even without the glass. “Yeah,” said Clint, “It’s a smiley face.” The captains looked puzzled. 

“A face, smiling,” said Phil. “Two circles for eyes and a curved line for the mouth.”

“Oh,” said Gus. “Cool? Cool.”

John took the glass for a closer look. “You are most certainly using that word correctly, Gus.”

Clint showed off his exploding arrows by blowing up an old shed. 

“Like incendiaries!” John said. At Clint’s puzzled look he clarified: “Small bombs. Our bellmen drop them from the netting under the dragons. The size of the explosion is similar, but we don’t get anything like your accuracy.”

Clint winked. “World’s greatest marksman, here. Are you ready for the grand finale?” 

The volley he fired looked like regular arrows, but as they raced toward the target, they emitted an eerie howl. “Now imagine hundreds of these babies flying through the air during a battle. The Mongols used these to panic their enemies. Well, that and the fact that Mongol archers were accurate at a great distance. No matter how far an opposing general stood back from a battle, he was never safe from their arrows!”

“That’s really amazing. Are bowmen common in your world and time? We don’t encounter them hardly anywhere here, but the tactic of having a sharpshooter take down an enemy officer has gained popularity now that many of our foot soldiers have rifles.” Gus said.

“No,” Clint laughed. “Not common at all. I grew up in a circus, doing an archery act. Shooting while standing on the back of a horse, that kind of thing. I use a gun for work pretty often, but I really enjoy the bow.”

“Do you have circuses?” Phil asked. 

“We have a few in the larger cities,” said John, “but I’ve never been to one, what with the war and being responsible for Iskierka. You really can’t take a dragon anywhere.”

%%%

Clint and Phil’s visit ended on a high note when the aviators staged a formation flying demonstration just before sunset. They sat with Admiral Roland as Gus and John were part of the show.

“This is really cool!” said Clint, for what seemed to Phil like the 50th time in two days. “We have air shows with planes, but it’s amazing to see all these different kinds of dragons flying together!

They watched formations who flew together regularly, as well as ones that came together for special occasions. Phil enjoyed the all-Yellow Reaper formation that Immortalis participated in.

“They’re among the most social of dragons and quite numerous here,” said the admiral, “so they’re rather good at flying close together.”

She wasn’t kidding, Phil thought. It was hard to see any space between the Yellow Reapers. They flew as if they knew each other’s thoughts.

As the sun began to set, Iskierka led the grand finale with gouts of flame aimed at a cluster of her feral friends, who squawked and dived as though in terror. 

“We have our hands full keeping her busy,” said Admiral Roland. “She was invaluable in wartime, but she’s a holy terror now. I don’t suppose your SHIELD needs a fire-breathing dragon?”

Clint grinned at Phil. “We could say she followed us home?”

%%%

Once it was fully dark, the four men walked to the woods by the covert with Admiral Roland. It was time for Phil and Clint to return home. 

“John didn’t get hurt even once during the exchange,” said Gus, “So I count it as a success.”

“We really enjoyed our visit,” said Phil. “Thank you for hosting us.”

“And thank you for the arrowheads,” Clint chimed in.

Admiral Roland looked at Gus and John. “Captains, did you take anything home from their world? That could be dangerous.”

“No,” said John. “We agreed not to.”

The men exchanged hugs, and Clint and Phil shook hands with Admiral Roland, then walked toward the portal.

%%%

Gus found a bottle of lube tucked into his desk drawer, wrapped in purple paper. He showed it to John. “Looks like a gift from Clint. Think this will change our world?” he asked.

John winked. “It might,” he said.

The End

**Author's Note:**

> I started this fic a few months ago, before COVID-19 became a pandemic. I wanted to give the canonical gay couple of Naomi Novik’s Temeraire series a gay-friendly vacation, and thanks to some back-and-forth with CMOTScribbler, I had the idea of Gus and John’s Excellent Adventure stuck in my head, though I had forgotten that Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure (1989) is about “fluffy time travel.” I wanted to try my hand at Avengers fan fiction, too, as I’m a big fan of Clint/Coulson. 
> 
> As I write this, Central Park is home to a field hospital and British Prime Minister Boris Johnson has been hospitalized due to the coronavirus. Pretty much nobody is taking a vacation—gay-friendly time travel or otherwise. I hope that all who read this stay well. I usually write serious stuff with some humorous moments, but I think we can all use a higher ratio of fluff to angst these days.


End file.
